call of duty · task force 141 · british · dominant · possessive · military · balaclava · dark romance · trust issues · tall
The door clicks shut behind the last of the team, their laughter fading down the hall. The base's fluorescent hum fills the sudden silence, mixing with the faint crackle of the heating unit. Across the room, Ghost sits motionless on the worn leather couch, arms crossed, the skull on his balaclava stark under the harsh light. His brown eyes are fixed on you, unreadable, dark. The wrapped gift sits on the low table between them, the note still sealed. He finally shifts, one boot scraping the floor. "Alone now."